Journey of a Nord a Skyrim fanfic
by rurounikz
Summary: This is my first attempt to write a story taken place in the world of video games. It is based on each time I played Skyrim after I finished the main quest.
1. Chapter 1

The Nord felt responsible for what happened to the clan. As soon as he came back to Whiterun, he saw Jorrvaskr, the building of the Companions, with the boat upside down as a ceiling in flames, his brothers and sisters in arms covered in blood from the dead bodies of the Siver Hands that were foolishly enough and try to invade the legendary mead hall, house of the Companions, and the closest thing he knew to a home… If only I had been here to protect them, he thought to himself.

After entering the construction, two of his brothers were crouched on the floor, almost sobbing which might be the closest to crying as nords can get. Only after one of them rose was when the morbid surprise was revealed. The body of Kodlak Whitemane was stretched on the floor, wearing only a tunic to cover his privates. The man the Nord knew as the Counselor, whom was responsible for his acceptance with the Companions and was also the one who convinced him to go on a quest to find a cure for what had troubled this honorable clan for centuries.

And then, alongside Vilkas, a double handed master, the Nord started a new quest to seek revenge and recover a lost artifact, most sacred to The Companions. His destination was set within the cold mountains of the west, the Driftshade Refuge.

After a fast travel through the trail, the party of two decide to slow down their pace. Suddenly, alongside a slope, they saw a big shadow moving in front of them, an Frost Troll. To some adventurers, this beast could represent a challenge. But not for a couple of Companions, filled with rage in their heart and thirst for vengeance in their souls. Not for these two…

The Nord name is Gerrard and he is also know as Dovahkiin for reasons yet unknown. He found himself on the line to be beheaded, but to his dumb luck, he was saved by the appearance of a giant, black dragon. This once to be thought extincted creature attacked the whole village where the execution was to take place and made possible for the nord to escape. Soon as he arrived in Whiterun, a nearby city, he joined The Companions and with everything that was happening in Skyrim, the devoted himself to their quests, their demands.

And these pages are the only thing that's left from the Journey of a Nord…

_"**I am a warrior and will die as I lived—in glorious battle!"**_―The Companions' proclamation


	2. Chapter 2

When the adventurers first noticed the Frost Troll, it was walking away from them, towards its cave, and this fact made things much easier for both Companions. Gerrard quickly drew his Elven Bow, and Vilkas got his Greatsword ready. The Nord crouched and started to walk slowly, behind the troll's back but from a safe distance of about six meters, as to get ready for a sneak attack. He pulled an arrow, aimed for the head of the the beast and let it fly. As soon as the arrow hit the troll, he looked for the ones attacking it, and started to run towards the companions in anger, with his three bright red eyes, focusing on the archer that had just injured it.

Vilkas was always ready for combat and ran with his weapon ready, anxious to try to diminish the rage he was feeling by killing a wild beast. And so, the troll and Vilkas, a beast and a Companion were running towards one another, set to meet in the middle of a snowy plain for fearsome combat. But before the greatsword master could have a taste of troll blood, two projectiles passed flying by on each side of Vilkas' head. The split second spent looking around to discover what was the source of these noises was more than enough time for a third arrow to hit the Troll, right in its' middle eye.

_- You could have at least let me have a swing at this beast, shield brother. You know I am in thirst of a good battle!_ – Vilkas complained even though he was more angry at himself for allowing the Nord to become so superior on combat than him, an older member of the Companions – _I see now that Aela have trained you well in skills of Archery. You might even have surpassed her, our greatest hunter._

_- Now brother, sorry if I got carried away on this fight and didn't leave anything for you to strike. But we will have all combat we crave once we arrive at Driftshade Refuge, the Silver Hands' hideout where them cowards hide from us, trying to escape from our revenge…_

The training Gerrard received from the huntress Aela, has indeed proved much helpful, especially when facing dragons. An archery expert for the Companions, Aela was the mentor of the Nord's favorite combat skill. Maybe it was due to their common interest in bows and arrows that they became fond of each other. Nevertheless, she made possible for him to become the best archer in Whiterun, the city where the headquarters of the Companions was located.

It almost seemed like years ago when Gerrard first arrived in Whiterun as a refugee wearing nothing more than scraps and with no weapon better than a rusty dagger. So much has changed from that day, so many people have died and yet the Nord's will, strong as a weapon forged on the Skyforge, the mightiest blacksmith forge in all country, never breaks, never shatters. As he is walking along his path, writing his destiny, in flames and strong actions that meant more than hollow words, for he is The Nord and Skyrim is his land.

"_**Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin**_  
><em><strong>naal ok zin los vahriin<strong>_  
><em><strong>wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!<strong>_** "**

–

_**Dragonborn, Dragonborn**_  
><em><strong>by his honor is sworn<strong>_  
><em><strong>To keep evil forever at bay!<strong>_


	3. Chapter 3

The party of two drew closer to the entrance to Driftshade Refugee, the place where those responsible for the attack on Whiterun, the assault that killed Kodlake Whitemane, the Harbinger of the Companions hide themselves. The Silver Hand not only murdered the eldest member of the Companions but also stole a fragment of the Wuuthrad, the legendary two handed axe that belonged to Ysgramor, the founder of the Order of the Companions.

The main objective for the quest given to Gerrard and Vilkas might have been to retrieve the sacred relic. But to their rage filled heart it was more than clear that revenge was the primary goal of this journey. And so, both of them were committed to eliminate the enemies, kill all members of The Silver Hand, that were so cowardly hiding.

As soon as The Nord spotted the hideout, a small fortification inlaid in the mountains, he started to sneak around it, recognizing the terrain, identifying the enemies and the weak points of the fort to better plan the line of attack. The fortification was not big, since its purpose was to function as a hideout for The Silver Hand. But still, it had two towers with a couple of archers on top of each one, scouting the surroundings for enemies and a metal gate in front of the fortress that it was guarded by six guards, five humans and an orc, that took turns patrolling the perimeter.

_- Why the worry to plan our attack? Let's charge at them already !_ – Vilkas whispered. Patience was not his strength. Fortunately, his skill with a greatsword did not make patience necessary for him in combat. But this battle would be different. They were greatly outnumbered and had a disadvantage on the terrain, and Gerrard was well aware of these facts.

_- Not for a second I doubt your skills in combat, brother. But bear in mind that not even your mighty greatsword and my unerring bow have a chance at ten warriors including one orc if we don't think about our strategy. Unless you want for us to die here, in vain for our cause and don't recover the relic of honor to our clan. Remember what Kodlak taught us: to know the abilities of our enemies before fighting them. - _Gerrard tried to reason with Vilkas, even though it was also hard for him not to become blind with rage as his brother was.

_- You are right. But don't patronize me on what the Harbinger taught us, brother. I know the teachings, as well as you._ - Vilkas replied. – _What is your plan?_

_- As soon the night comes, we strike, together, as I tell you…_ – The Nord sat down, started sharpening his short sword and telling Vilkas about their course of attack.

_"**Out of this time also rose one of the most legendary of all Tamrielic figures, Ysgramor, from whom all Nordic kings to this day are descended."**_ – Unknown


End file.
